


Time Waits For No Man

by fred21



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Gen, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fred21/pseuds/fred21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cameron Mitchell is alone, separated from SG1 and stranded in 1929. He has a mission to complete. Only things aren't going to be that simple especially when an old enemy turns up. Set during Continuum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hitting the ground hard and fast Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, leader of SG-1, rolled forward a few feet, cursing loudly as he hit something hard, before he quickly pulled himself upright and spun around to look behind him, only to see the shimmery blue glow of the wormhole disappear, plunging him into darkness.

Total pitch black darkness.

If the dark was a little unnerving, the lack of any sound other than his own heavy breathing made it more so. Standing there realization suddenly hit him.

He was completely and utterly alone.

The rest of SG-1 was on the other side of the gate, dead or at least as good as. He had seen Sam and Daniel killed. Teal'c was by now also dead. The Vala he had known didn't exist anymore. Had in fact never existed at all in the timeline he had just left except as a Goa'uld named Qetesh and General O'Neill had been dead for a year, killed by the hand of Ba'al.

He had known that when he dived through the gate that it was his only choice if he was to set things right and save the lives of his friends. At the time there had been no question about not going through the gate, but now standing here alone, surrounded by silence and blackness, all he felt was a sense of loss.

It wasn't meant to be this way. Everything, everyone he had ever known was gone. Dead. At least it felt like they were dead. For the truth was, if he was in the right place and the right time, they had never been born, he had never been born.

Time travel really did suck, no matter which way you looked at it.

Running his hand through his hair Cameron let out a deep breath, pushing the sorrow that was in his heart back to where it belonged. Now was not the time to be grieving. He had a mission to complete and right now his friends needed him. Trusted him to do the right thing and to put things back the way they were meant to be and that was what he was going to do. It was this kind of determination that had gotten him through the worst that life had so far thrown at him and it would get him through this.

The first thing he needed to do was to figure out exactly where he was.

***S***S***

Searching through his pockets, it was times like this that he could see the one and only positive aspect about smoking because he would at least have had a lighter or a box of matches on him.

Just as he was beginning to think that he wasn't going to have any luck on the light front, his hand slid over the surface of his cell phone. Okay, it was pretty useless to him now that he was stuck in 1929 but just as he was going to reject it and carry on searching he had an idea. Pulling it out he flipped it open, the light from the screen casting out a bluish glow.

Holding it out in front of him, the blue glow revealed the Stargate standing a few feet away. Going over to it he reached out and touched it, enjoying for a moment the familiar feel of its cool, solid surface beneath his fingers, reminding him of the first time he had seen and touched it back on that first day of his command of SG-1. He had been alone then too, though not quite alone as he felt now.

"Don't you worry darling, I'm going to get you back home. That's a promise."

He spoke very softly, with a hint of tenderness in his voice, before he realized that he was talking to the Stargate alone in the dark and smiled at the absurdity of it. Flipping open his phone again he shone the light around, repeating the action as he moved through the room getting his bearings.

Several large wooden crates were scattered around, some stacked upon each other, others laying on their own. Behind the crates were a series of shelves reaching up to the ceiling and stretching several feet along. The shelves were filled with an assortment of objects.

Curious he went over to one of the shelves to have a closer look. A small statue, carved out of bone gleaming white in the light caught his attention and he picked it up. It was some kind of ornament. Egyptian by the looks of it. At least that what he thought it was, since it reminded him of the type of thing that he had seen in Daniel's office many times. Looking further along the shelf he saw similar objects to the one he had picked up, some of which had tags on them, though he couldn't read the language that was written on them.

Exploring further he flipped his phone shut to conserve the battery, using the edge of shelves to guide him along until he came to the end of it.

"You wouldn't happen to know the way out of here, would you?"

Standing tall in its sarcophagus, the mummified corpse seemed to stare back at Cameron, illuminated in the blue glow of his cell phone. The bandages that covered it had worn away in parts, revealing the dried husk of the figure beneath it.

"Didn't think so," he said quietly as he continued moving around, before his light showed what looked like a door.

Going over to it he turned the handle and walked through.

***S****S***

Cameron sat in the hard back wooden chair staring through a row of small high windows, waiting for the sunrise. That he couldn't actually see the sun was a technicality, but in his mind it was close enough.

Slowly the night sky changed as the faint rays of the sun made it's appearance. The stars and the blackness of the night changed, becoming lighter as a myriad of colors filtered across the sky. Black gave way to dark blue, then a lighter blue before a mixture of deep orange and gold streaked out, themselves fading and becoming softer merging into the bright light of day.

People spoke of the rising of the sun as a start of a new day, but for Cameron it was also the start of a new life. Having spent a good hour or so looking around the building , he now knew with complete certainty that he was inside the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, Egypt and that the year was 1929.

Though he had known the year when he had dived through the Stargate, some small part of him had tried to hold onto the belief that perhaps it was all a mistake, that maybe however unlikely it was, that Sam had been wrong and that when he went through the gate that somehow he would be back home, in the right place and the right time and that all the people he had known were still alive and well. Walking around the Museum had once and for all shattered that hope and he had been faced with the stark reality of the truth. He was stuck on Earth in 1929 and nothing would ever be the same again.

Searching through the building he had come across this room. The layer of dust hinted at a lack of use and for Cameron that meant he might be safe in here for awhile, at least until the museum was open and he could, he hoped, make his exit without anyone ever knowing that he had been here, blending into the surroundings and people that would arrive. The room had obviously once been someone's office with a large wooden desk and a chair, various cabinets and shelves that were overflowing with books and objects to the extent that there were now piles of books and crates and other odds and ends stacked around the room. The whole feel of the room was of abandonment, no longer used as an office but now a dumping ground for things that had no other place to go. Cameron could relate to that feeling and with that had decided to camp out here.

Tired as he was, sleep would not come and so he sat in the chair looking through the small high windows that was his only view to the outside world, letting the peace of the night sky calm his thoughts and taking in the simple joy of seeing the sunrise. For now it was enough.

Once the museum was open he would make his escape and his new life would begin.

***S***S***


	2. Chapter 2

**Six Months Later - September 1929, the Mediterranean Sea**

Standing on the deck of the Nereid Cameron looked out across the ocean. The silhouette of Algeria was in the distance. The full moon clearly revealing the shape of the coastline against the dark blue of the night sky.

In the months since his escape from the Egyptian Museum his life had changed forever and though there were times when the loss of his friends and the life he had known was dull ache, that sense of loss was becoming easier to bear and was fading as all pain did eventually.

Upon finding work on the Nereid he had quickly realised that everything he had was out of place in this time. His cell phone, Beretta handgun, Swiss army knife, and watch, all stood out as being from the 21st century and were now at the bottom of the Mediterranean along with his clothing and dog tags. Letting them go had been particularly hard.

Even now he could still recall the weight of them dangling from his fingers, the grey metal glinting in the early morning sunlight, before he had finally let them go and the dog tags had slid from his fingers to fall into the ocean.

The only thing he had kept from his previous life was his leather jacket which was now packed in a battered leather bag along with a spare set of clothing, a shaving kit, a handgun and a copy of '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea' which somehow had seemed appropriate, considering his life was now mostly spent on board the Nereid.

Life on board was busy. Traveling back and forth along the North African coastline between Cairo and Tangier, stopping at various ports on the way, the Nereid delivered cargo and the odd passenger. A small ship with only a handful of crew on board, there was plenty to keep them all occupied.

The crew was an interesting mix of nationalities and misfits lead by Captain Montet and united by an unspoken rule of respect for each others secrets. Their past was no-ones business but their own and Cameron liked the fact that he didn't have to reveal anything about himself. He was anonymous, just a member of the crew and having that in common with the others meant that they all got along just fine most of the time.

"Mitchell."

At the sound of the Captain's voice Cameron turned around. Captain Hans Montet stood in the doorway of his cabin, a glass half filled with dark amber fluid in one hand, a cigar in the other. Cameron had come to like and respect Montet though he was careful in what he revealed about himself; covering his true identity with a series of plausible lies though he suspected that Montet was not easily fooled.

Half German, half French, Montet was a man of many contrasts.

His dark blond hair and even darker blue eyes were the obvious legacy of his German father, as was the German accent. At 5'9 he was a couple of inches shorter than Cameron but other than that they were similar in build with both men being toned and fit. Montet was not the kind of captain who sat idly back letting others do all the work. He believed in working along side his men, yet there was no doubt that he was in charge. In his early 40's he was a man of action, strong and decisive when needed and more than capable of holding his own in a fight. He also possessed a sophisticated grace, a legacy of his French mother who had passed onto him not only her keen intellect but her love of books and music and art. Women in particular were drawn to him, the combination of ruggedness, good looks and intellectual charm appealing to many.

"Come, join us. Drummond has brought some cognac as a gift."

Montet knew there was more to Mitchell than what he appeared. He could always tell a man with secrets and this strange American was hiding something big. It was of no matter to him, everyone had secrets and as long as they didn't bring trouble on board his ship, he asked no questions. Mitchell though, was different. He was a hard worker, never complained and did everything that was asked of him, and yet Montet knew that here was man who was more use to giving orders, making decisions, thinking for himself. He was a leader not a follower.

It would be good for Mitchell and Drummond to meet.

Charles Drummond was an old friend and a regular passenger. Montet was fairly sure that he would sense the same thing that he did about Mitchell, that here was a man who didn't belong on board a ship as a deckhand. Drummond knew everyone and everything that was going on. He might be able to find Mitchell a job that was more suitable, somewhere that was not on this ship, for though Montet liked Mitchell and might even considered him a friend, he knew that whatever trouble Mitchell was hiding from it would find him eventually and when it did he didn't want his ship anywhere near it.

For now though all he wanted was for Mitchell to have a drink and play some cards with himself, Drummond and Wani. The rest would sort itself out.

***S***S***

"My friends, I believe this hand is mine."

Taking a drag on his cigar, Captain Hans Montet laid down his cards, revealing a full house. The night was going well. Of the dozen or so hands they had played he had won more than half, and though they didn't play for high stakes, he was still accumulating a small pile of cash. That and having a good bottle of cognac and a cigar were enough to make it a good night, having friends to share it with made it more so.

Of the men sitting at the table with him, Charles Drummond was one of his closest friends. It was unlikely friendship. Drummond was a tall, thin, wry man and came across as very much like the Englishman he was with dark brown hair, black rimmed glasses, a pale beige colored suit and hat, a darker colored tie at his throat, his voice upper class, belying his Scottish roots. Their friendship was born from their differences as well as their similarities but like most close friendships it was founded on trust. In a world where Montet did not trust many people, Drummond was one of the few he did so. Of the others he trusted one was Wani, who was also seated at the table. The fourth player at the table was Mitchell, who Montet sensed was a decent man, but was not yet sure if he could trust him.

"You truly have God on your side, Captain." Wani, a tall dark Sudanese, looked down at his own hand which was also laid down on the table, showing three of a kind.

Montet smiled as he pulled his winnings closer, taking another puff on his cigar, followed by a mouthful of cognac. "Perhaps it is not God who is on my side."

"God believes in you even if you do not believe in him."

"Still trying to save the Captain's soul, Wani," said Drummond, taking a cigarette case out of his suit jacket pocket.

"The captain's soul is already saved; he just doesn't know it yet."

Joining in with the laughter of Montet and Drummond, Cameron leaned across the table to collect the cards. As he did so, Drummond turned to him holding out his cigarette case.

"No thanks," said Cameron giving a shake of his head as he began to shuffle the deck.

"Mitchell doesn't smoke."

Glancing from Montet back to Cameron, Drummond nodded. "Of course, Mustard gas. Terrible business. The war left many scars."

Just then loud singing echoed through the ship, shattering the quiet of the night. Not only was the singing loud but it was also obscene.

"Sounds like O'Malley found the booze again," said Cameron as he dealt out the cards.

Cursing in German Montet got up, pushing his chair back with force, ready to go and deal with the situation. Everyone on board knew what O'Malley was like when he got into the booze, and that the next stage that followed the singing of obscene songs at the top of his voice were the fights that would inevitably break out as he accosted anyone he could find.

"Captain, stay. I will see to him." Wani gestured for the Captain to sit back down as he himself got up. Switching from German to Nubian Montet spoke to him causing Wani to smile broadly and nod in return before he turned and left.

"Some more cognac?" Montet poured a measure into his own glass, and looked at the others, questioning.

"Something stronger, I think." With that Drummond got up, going to his cabin next door. As he left they all heard the loud cursing of O'Malley, followed by a very loud splash, an obvious sound of someone hitting the water.

"You told Wani to throw him overboard?" Cameron looked at Montet, trying not to laugh.

"It will not do him any harm. He can swim and it will sober him up. He just better hope that no crocodiles come looking for a meal before Wani pulls him back in."

"Now this is more like it."

Coming back into the room, Drummond carried a bottle of Scotch in one hand and a large folded up piece of cloth in the other. He placed both of the items on the table. Opening up the bottle and pouring some into a glass for himself and one for Mitchell, he watched as Montet leaned across the table picking up the folded cloth. Feeling that there was something wrapped inside Montet weighed it in his hand, looking up at Drummond.

"What is it?"

"Have a look. I think you'll find it interesting."

Unwrapping the cloth, Montet looked inside. "Egyptian?"

"I think so."

Curious Cameron watched as Montet placed the unwrapped object, still nestled inside the cloth back on the table. For the briefest of moments surprise and recognition flicked in his eyes as he saw what the object was.

***S***S***


	3. Chapter 3

Reaching over to pick the object up Cameron did his best to keep his composure. Only his eyes gave him away. A flicker of recognition, glimmering in their depths. Knowing that something, which was not much bigger than his hand, could inflict so much pain, even death, and that no one else was aware of this, was a little disconcerting, even more so when seeing it up this close. Knowing all that it could do and what it represented, Cameron thought it was an odd experience to be holding a Goa'uld ribbon device in his hand.

It was certainly not something that he had expected to see here on Earth in 1929. The one positive aspect of seeing the device was knowing that there were at least no Goa'uld around to use it. As yet the Goa'uld were unaware of Earth's presence. For Cameron that meant no bad guys which was as far as he was concerned at least one good thing about living in the past, that and the fact that the history he knew was now his present, although he did miss a little the not knowing. He liked being surprised, it was one of the many things that had always been enjoyable about working for the Stargate Programme. Living as he now did in 1929 he knew how many of the future events were going to play out, and though it would be interesting, in truth he would rather not know what was going to happen. The fun part of life was the unexpected.

Placing the ribbon device back on the table Cameron picked up his glass of Scotch and took a big mouthful, pulling himself back into the here and now, collecting his thoughts. This was his life, and though it wasn't the life he had ever expected, it wasn't so bad and even knowing what he did, it still managed to throw the odd surprise his way, like the Goa'uld ribbon device that was laying on the table.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

Picking up his cards Drummond watched Cameron curious as to what he would think of the object he had found. Not everyone found Egyptian artifacts as fascinating as he did and he was intrigued by this American, there was something different about him, though he couldn't quite place what it was, all he knew was that he agreed with Montet, Mitchell didn't belong on the Nereid.

"A little." Cameron picked up his cards pretending to concentrate on them when in reality he had to admit he was curious. "Where did you find it?"

"Yes, I must admit I'm curious." Montet picked up the object again, turning it over in his hands, looking at it intently. "I've never seen anything like it before. It's an unusual piece of jewelry, looks like some kind of hand ornament."

"Yes, that's what I think too, though I can't imagine that it was all that comfortable to wear."

"So where did you get it?" said Montet as he placed it back on the table.

Drinking his Scotch, Drummond smiled, amused that he had caught the interest of the others. "Let's just say it fell into my hands."

Cameron placed a few coins on the table for his bet, turning his attention back to the game. Interesting though it was to see a ribbon device up close, it was useless. There were no Goa'uld around, and that was a good thing.

***S***S*  
**

**Four weeks later - October 1929, Cairo, Egypt**

Laying down the razor Cameron picked a towel, wiping off the remaining residue of the soap off his face. Tossing the towel to one side he ran his hand over his chin, looking from side to side in the mirror. It felt good to be clean shaven. Inn fact it felt good to be clean all over. Though there had been basic washing facilities on board the ship and he had taken a few dips in the Mediterranean, it wasn't quite the same as having a decent shower or in this case a long, hot soak in a bath.

Walking into the connecting bedroom, a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, his hair still damp from the bath, Cameron began dress, pulling on the freshly laundered clothes that were laid out on the bed. Though he didn't mind roughing it, it made a nice change to stay somewhere that was modern, had running water, electricity, and the best things of all, as far as Cameron was concerned, was the large comfortable bed and the fact that he didn't have to share his room with anyone. Though he could accept living in close quarters like he had on the ship, it was good to have his own space.

Picking up the clean shirt and pulling it on, he also had to admit that the hotel had a few other luxuries that made staying here worthwhile such as the laundry service which had seen to it that just about every piece of clothing he owned had been thoroughly cleaned, steamed and pressed.

Dressed and ready Cameron left, walking hurriedly down the several flights of stairs, stopping only once he reached the bottom, his attention drawn to the woman standing at the hotel foyer desk, writing something down on a piece of paper.

Having met her briefly yesterday with Drummond, he couldn't help but stare at her, his eyes traveling the length of her of body, admiring. Lady Katerina Faraday was a beautiful woman. She was, he guessed, somewhere in her late twenties to early thirties, with jaw length wavy dark brown hair framing flawless skin against which her crimson red lips and nails stood out. The pale cream suit and cloche hat only added to the effect, showcasing a slim figure.

Perhaps sensing that she was being watched Lady Faraday lifted her head, turning sideways. Seeing Cameron she smiled that same slow sensuous smile that she had given him yesterday.

Moving forward Cameron found himself unable to control the boyish grin that spread across his face. "Hi, Cameron Mitchell. We met yesterday."

"Mr Mitchell. Of course, I remember you."

She spoke with a slight accent, though not being a linguist like Daniel was, he couldn't identify what it was. French, or maybe Italian, he thought. Her voice held a hint of amusement, though Cameron had a feeling she was ever so slightly mocking him. Deciding to ignore it, realising that perhaps she had expected him to greet her differently, he found himself staring into hazel brown eyes, and knew in an instant that she was quite aware of the affect she was having on him.

"I was just leaving a note for Mr Drummond, inviting him for drinks tomorrow night. You should come also Mr Mitchell, you are more than welcome to join us."

"I'd like that. Thanks."

"Tomorrow night then."

Cameron stood there watching her, admiring the sway of her hips, the completely languid and sensuous way she moved across the room and out the door. He also noticed that he was not alone in his appreciation as every other male in the vicinity watched her walk away.

Pulling his mind away from the very beautiful and tempting Lady Faraday, Cameron took out the card from his jacket pocket, that Drummond had given him.

On it was written a name and instructions on how to find them. Drummond had told him that they were looking for a pilot, wanting someone to take some aerial photos. Looking at the card, Cameron was not all the surprised that Drummond had remembered him telling him that he could fly and even less so that Drummond had found him a job where he could fly again. The prospect of flying again, of being up in the sky, of feeling that total freedom was exciting and something he hadn't felt for a long time.

Tapping the card against one hand a couple of times, Cameron smiled to himself. Life was indeed starting to look a lot brighter.

***S***S***


	4. Chapter 4

**October 1929 - Somewhere in the Giza Plateau, Egypt**

Following the pointed finger with his eyes, Cameron saw a two figures in the distance.

Giving a quick thanks to the young Egyptian boy who had pointed in the direction where Morgan was, Cameron headed off. Though still morning, the sun not quite at its peak height in the sky, it was already beating down its heat on the people below. Despite the heat Cameron had to admit that the view was still impressive as he took in the pyramids in the far distance, the sun shining behind one of them.

The journey out had been interesting and enjoyable, offering Cameron a view of Cairo and the surrounding area that he had not seen before. Being driven in a car itself had been half the fun of the trip out, the driver taking Cameron over the dusty roads. Though calling them roads was a bit of an exaggeration. In reality they were barely visible tracks, the sand and dust worn down into a compressed pattern by decades of people and animals walking over the same path. On the journey itself Cameron passed a few of these travelers, the car seemingly out of place as it drove along the same track as camels and donkeys.

At the dig site itself there were a handful of tents clustered around, the ground dropping into layers as the excavations dug deeper, looking for that all important find. Daniel would have loved it, Cameron thought, and realized it would have be good to share this experience with his friend.

Getting closer to Morgan he was able to make out more detail. Noting that each piece of clothing, from the Indiana Jones style hat down to a pair of leather shoes, were in various shades of brown and covered in dust and sand. Cameron watched as Morgan's Egyptian companion spoke to him, obviously telling him of the stranger that was coming.

As Morgan stood up, pulling himself up from the crouched position he was in to turn around, Cameron observed two things. One Morgan wasn't as tall as Cameron thought he would be, standing around 5 feet 5, secondly, despite the masculine attire, Morgan wasn't a man.

As the woman took a step towards him Cameron appreciated this fact, enjoying the sight of long, slim, legs, the curve of hips, the dip of a waist that the trousers she was wearing highlighted. The rest of her was hidden by the large man's jacket she had on, though now she stood facing him he could see the curvaceous swell of breasts underneath the shirt she was wearing that the opened jacket revealed.

Cameron held out his hand, smiling. "Hi. Cameron Mitchell. You're Morgan? I understand that you're looking for a pilot."

As she reached out her hand to take his, lifting her head higher to look up at him, Cameron got a better look at the face under the brim of the hat and found himself looking into a pair of green eyes. For the second time that day he found himself staring at an attractive woman, though her beauty was softer and gentler than Lady Faraday's. She really was quite lovely with fair skin that had just a touch of color from the sun and hair that was, as far as he could see from the wisps that were hanging around her face and the twisted knot at the base of her neck, long, thick and pale honey blond.

"Mr Mitchell," she said, taking his hand and shaking it. Cameron noticed that her grip was firm, her voice pleasant, her manner business like. "And yes I'm Morgan. You can fly?"

"Yes. Ma'am."

Cameron found himself reverting back to the Southern ways his Grandma had instilled in him, one in which where manners were important and a woman was always treated like a lady. Her manner had made it quite apparent to him that here was a woman who would not take kindly to disrespect and Cameron had no wish to get on her bad side. He had the feeling that despite her lack of height she could whip him pretty good when riled. Part of Cameron was almost tempted to see what that would be like, but decided against it.

Now was not the time to be flirting with a pretty woman, no matter how tempting it might be. He wanted to fly, needed to fly would be a better way to describe it and this woman could give him that chance.

There was always Katerina Faraday. Now there was a woman one could enjoy flirting with and perhaps a lot more. Though there had been opportunities to visit the odd brothel when he had been in port, Cameron hadn't felt any desire to do so. Yes he missed sex. It was after all one of his favorite things but the risk of picking up an STD in one of those places was just too great. In truth it wasn't just the sex he missed; self fulfillment could take care of any sexual release if he needed it. No it was the little things that went along with a sexual relationship that he missed the most. The flirting, the kissing, the feel of a woman's skin, the sound of a woman's laugh. At heart Cameron was an old fashioned romantic and he missed just being in the company of a woman. Miss Morgan was definitely not the kind of woman to flirt with. He couldn't help compare how different Katerina and Miss Morgan were. Katerina was exotic and mysterious, every word, every movement sensuous and seductive. Miss Morgan, on the other hand, was manner of fact. Nothing sensuous in her manner, she looked at him without interest, he was merely an ends to a means.

"Good. We have a plane, but no pilot. I need you to take me up so that I can get some aerial footage. You'll be paid, of course."

"Yes, Ma'am. Maybe you should show me the plane?"

"That I can do. Follow me."

For the next several minutes they walked in silence as Cameron followed her over numerous narrow planks and paths over and around the dig site. Her stride may not have matched his since she lacked his height but she walked with purpose and confidence and was surprisingly fast. Cameron found himself increasing the length of his stride just to keep up with her. Clearing the site they came to a flat, barren section of land that stretched out to the horizon upon which sat the plane.

"There she is. I'll leave you to inspect it. When you're ready I'll get your driver to take you back. Be here tomorrow, early. Say 7 o'clock. You can take me up then."

Not waiting for a response she turned away, leaving Cameron to watch her for a moment, before he brought his attention to the plane. Now this was going to be interesting, he thought, going over to it.

Walking away Morgan met up with a man from dig site who had followed them over.

"Who's he?" the man asked, giving a nod in the direction of Cameron.

Morgan gave Cameron a quick look, turning her attention back to her companion. "He's a pilot. American. He's taking me up tomorrow morning. Don't worry he's not going to interfere with things."

Morgan carried on back to her tent to check on her equipment leaving her companion to stare at Cameron.

"Hmmm. He better not."

***S***S***

**Later that night - Outside the hotel in Cairo**

From down the street the Goa'uld watched, standing in the darken street, unobserved by anyone. This Cameron Mitchell was a curious human. There was something puzzling about him, something strange, though the Goa'uld could not think what it was.

As always its sensors were alerted, and something about this Cameron Mitchell was sending off warning bells. No matter, he was only a human and could be taken care of easily enough, if and when the time warranted it. For now he could be watched. Whatever it was that he was hiding the Goa'uld would find out soon enough. And if he was a threat he would be eliminated.

With that thought the Goa'uld smiled. Nothing gave it greater pleasure that the agonising death of another life form. Humans in particular made enjoyable subjects to watch as they suffered, screaming in pain, begging for release. The Goa'uld felt a tingling sensation through its human host as the thought of the joy to be had from inflicting such pain. Torturing another living thing, bringing them to death, killing them and sometimes bringing them back alive only to do it all over again was a release like no other. The pleasure that infused it's body when undertaking such endeavors was as good as, if not better than sex that the humans so enjoyed.

Turning away, going back to where it had come from, the Goa'uld laughed quietly to itself. Foolish humans.

***S***S***


	5. Chapter 5

**Early Morning – Somewhere over the Giza Plateau, Egypt**

With the wind blowing gently across his face Cameron closed his eyes, his skin tingling as the breeze brushed across the surface and let the feeling of total freedom wash over him, his senses completely alive and attuned to everything around him. He had almost forgotten what flying felt like and it greeted him like an embrace from a old and familiar lover. He took a minute to enjoy the moment, storing the memory away. Opening his eyes all he could see was the blue sky that surrounded him and a contented smile spread out across his face.

Feeling a gloved hand firmly touch his left shoulder he turned his head a fraction in its direction to see a leather clad finger pointing. Above the whistling of the wind and the sound of the engine he heard a voice yell out. Though he only managed to catch fragments of what she was saying Cameron heard enough to know what Morgan was directing him to do and he carefully turned the plane in a slight angle, dipping it towards the ground.

In his hands the plane followed the path he had set it on, flying over the dig site. He lost himself in the the scenery that was all around, watching how the sand shimmered and sparkled as the sun touched it, the endless strip of blue that was the Nile and the lush green of the foliage that ran along its banks, bringing life to the desert. It was a beautiful sight and made even more awe-inspiring by the pyramids that dominated the landscape. Even this high up they still demanded attention, rising up out of the sand like three wise men. Only the click clank sound of the camera that was taking photos from behind him reminded Cameron that he was not alone.

***S***S***

Back on the ground Cameron climbed out of his seat, landing on the ground with practiced ease and offered his hand out to Morgan

From her seat Morgan stared down at the out reached hand and gave a firm shake of her head. "I can manage. Thank you."

From the brief pause she had given before the thank you Cameron had the feeling she had only said these words as an added after thought of good manners rather than them being a natural part of her behaviour. Still her reluctance to accept help wasn't going to stop him from trying again. "I'm sure you can Ma'am but it's bad manners to leave a lady to fend for herself. At least that's what my grandma taught me."

"Your grandmother?"

For the first time since he had met her Cameron detected a faint flicker of interest from her, the business like facade slipping for a moment as she looked at him with curiosity. "Yes Ma'am. My grandma she was a big believer in manners and treating people right, I try to follow her example."

"I see. Well you can tell your... grandma, that you have done your duty and behaved like the gentlemen she raised but I prefer to do things for myself. It was how I was raised."

Morgan emphasized this last point with a direct stare, her manner unflinching, her expression once again indifferent.

"Yes Ma'am."

Holding back a smile as he walked away, Cameron decided she had to be one of the most prickly and obstinate women he had met; working for her was certainly going to be a challenge, one he felt he was more than capable of handling.

With his offers of help politely but firmly turned down, Cameron cast surreptitiously looks Morgan's way as he went about running checks on the plane. Just because she was too stubborn and independent to accept his help didn't mean he wasn't going to keep an eye on her just in case she did need a hand after all, though watching her nimbly climb out of the cockpit and land firmly on the ground he could see that she was quite capable of taking care of herself. Still casting glances her way he watched as she pulled off the hat she worn.

As thick strands of hair fell around her shoulder's Morgan pulled out the hairpins that were holding her hair in place with a quick and deft touch, shaking the rest of her hair loose so that it tumbled in a mane of pale gold all the way down to her hips.

No longer going through the pretense of checking on the plane, Cameron found himself riveted to the scene before him, his eyes watching her every movement. As her fingers brushed through her hair untangling the knots pulling all the strands backwards to form a ponytail , her thumbs brushing lightly across the nape of her neck as she did so, a raw know of desire formed deep in Cameron's gut.

Holding the hairpins in her mouth she twisted, pulled and smoothed her hair back up, making a chignon while using the hairpins to keep it in place. Satisfied that her hair was once again neat and secure Morgan turned back to the plane and saw Mitchell standing by the engine, his blue eyes filled with an intensity she hadn't seen in him before. She paused, returning his look with one of her own, her expression changing to one of puzzlement.

Seeing the confusion on her face Cameron became aware that he had been staring and pulled his gaze away, a pink tinge of embarrassment lightly flushing his face as he carried on checking the engine, the flicker of desire he felt dying as fast has it had come.

Morgan carried on watching Mitchell as he ducked his head, her expression curious. For a second she thought she had seen... something in his eyes, a yearning almost, but quickly dismissed it. The sun and heat out here could play tricks on one's mind, leading one to imagine all kinds of strange things. She had far more important things to worry about than a look in a man's eyes.

The matter forgotten Morgan went over to the wing of the plane and placed her hands securely on the large handled box that contained her Kodak Brownie. With a heave she pulled it down and holding one side by it's handle she walked over to her car, the camera box idly swinging as she walked.

Her attention now off him, Cameron looked her way again, wondering where on Earth that stab of desire he had momentarily felt for her had come from. It wasn't like him to feel such sudden lust at the sight of a woman's hands and neck, yet lust was definitely what he had felt. An image of his lips kissing his way up her neck came unbidden and Cameron shook his head in an effort to clear it from out of his mind.

Focus.

That's what he needed to do, he thought running a hand through his hair and concentrating his thoughts on the plane that was in front of him as he reached out to check the propeller even as the memory of the curve of her neck and the smooth silken skin that he had glimpsed lingered in the back of his mind.

***S***S***

The journey back to Cairo was carried out in silence as Morgan drove Cameron back to his hotel over the dusty and sandy tracks, the speedometer steadily climbing to a fast pace as she hurtled along, maneuvering the car with confidence and ease. She kept her gaze straight ahead her mind obviously focused elsewhere while he sat next to her, his arm laying along the back rest of the car as he relaxed into the seat.

Cameron for his part tried to follow her example but found himself taking the occasional glance in her direction, his fingers lightly drumming against the surface of the leather interior at random intervals as he tried to keep his thoughts away from the woman who was sitting so closely by. The very nearest of her presence was mildly unsettling and the faint scent of jasmine that floated from her towards his senses only succeeded in reminding him of the direction that his thoughts had taken him earlier.

Finally the silence became too much for Cameron. "Have you lived here long?"

He mentally cringed inside as the words came from his mouth, embarrassed at how cheesy his question sounded. As Morgan glanced at him in obvious surprise, Cameron realized that she had forgotten all about him sitting next to her so lost in her own thoughts she had been and gave her a half hearted smile. "Sorry. Forget I asked. It's none of my business," he said.

Morgan looked at him for second before focusing her attention back on the road. "Egypt is not my home. I spend a few months here each year if I can. It has a way of drawing you in."

"I can see why. It's a beautiful place."

"Beauty can also be dangerous."

Hearing these words spoken so softly Cameron wondered if she was implying that Egypt was dangerous or something else. Either way he found himself both intrigued by these words and the woman who had said them, curious as to what had made her so wary of others.

His thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as Morgan pulled up outside his hotel, bringing the vehicle to a stop. As he got out of the car she turned to him.

"Egypt is not a place for someone who doesn't understand its rules. One false step and the price can be deadly. You should keep that in mind if you plan on staying here."

Caught unaware by her words Cameron looked at her intently for a moment before replying. "Thanks. I think. I'll try to heed..." The words faltered out as Morgan drove off, leaving him staring after her in confusion as he finished his sentence. "... that advice."

***S***S***


	6. Chapter 6

Still feeling somewhat bemused by his encounter with Morgan, Cameron walked into the hotel, the steady beat of his brown leather boots sounding out against the white and blue ceramic tiles of the lobby floor.

It had been a long time since he had been affected by a woman like this. Too long, if he was being painfully honest. Morgan though was definitely beginning to have an affect on him. Whether it was a good one or not he wasn't completely sure. She confused the hell out of him. All defensive walls and icy demeanor; not his type in the slightest and yet... he was unable to completely shake her from his thoughts, the image of her fingers brushing across the back of her neck as she had teased her hair back up, taming it once more in the confides of the pins she had used to hold her tawny locks in place, replaying again in his mind.

God he really needed to get a grip if just the merest sight of a woman's neck was having this kind of impact on him. What was between Morgan and him was a business arrangement and nothing more.

At the sound of his name he glanced up, pushing aside all thoughts of Morgan as he saw the familiar, bespectacled figure of Drummond coming down the hotel stairs.

The two men exchanged smiles in greeting as Drummond's hand reached down to his jacket pocket to take out the cigarette case that seemed to be his constant companion. Wondering if he would every truly get use to the smell of tobacco that seemed to always linger in the air, Cameron watched with faint amusement as Drummond withdrew a slim cigarette from the silver case and lit it with a flick of his lighter, the ember burning brightly at the tip as he slowly and deeply inhaled as if it was the breath of life itself..

Cigarette in hand Drummond fell into step with Cameron as they headed toward the front desk. "So, how was this morning's flying?" he asked curious as to how everything had gone.

"Good." Cameron paused, the seriousness of his face shifting into a grin. "Better than good in fact."

"Well since you look like a man who has spent the morning in the arms of his mistress one can only assume that it must have been worthwhile."

At these words a thought quickly crossed Cameron's mind that there was one woman whose arms he wouldn't mind being held in. Quickly squashing this idea back down to where it belonged he smiled faintly. "Something like that."

"And how was Morgan?"

"She was fine," said Cameron after a brief pause, his voice barely hiding the moment's hesitation before he had given his reply.

Amusement flickered across Drummond's face again. He knew Morgan well. Or least as well as anyone did, which wasn't much when he considered how little he really did know about her. Most of what he knew was made up of conjecture and rumor; never a reliable source. Morgan was mysterious as Egypt herself which was part of her allure though Morgan would have been the last person to think of herself as alluring.

"Which means that she was her normal and charming self."

Cameron gave no reply, hearing the tone in Drummond's voice and rightly guessing that Drummond knew what she was like. It made him feel just a little bit better knowing that it wasn't just him that she was rude to.

"Did you fly in the war?" asked Drummond, the topic of Morgan closing as his thoughts and curiosity turned to the mystery that was Cameron Mitchell.

Cameron pondered Drummond's question, the unexpectedness of it catching him by surprise as he hesitated once again. Telling the truth wasn't an option but outright lying didn't feel right; finding a middle ground wasn't going to be easy until he realized that he had flown in a war, just not in the war that Drummond was referring to.

"Yeah."

Drummond caught the hesitation again in Cameron's voice and though the expression on Cameron's face told him that he wasn't lying he knew that Cameron was hiding something. Perhaps the memories of the war were still too raw. He had heard of men who were like that. Men who had, at least physically, survived the war but who were unable to shake off the things they had seen and done in the name of king and country. Cameron didn't seem the type to be one of those poor shattered souls but one could never tell what went on behind the face of normalcy.

Realizing this Drummond changed the topic once again as he slid his room key across the marble surface of the hotel's front desk, giving the desk attendant a small nod of his head in acknowledgement.

"What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Nothing definite." Cameron paused for a second as his own curiosity kicked into gear. "Why?"

"Would I be correct in assuming that you don't have a dinner suit?" replied Drummond, arching an eyebrow in a questioning manner.

Just for a second Cameron was reminded of Teal'c before confusion crossed his features. "A dinner suit?"

"For tonight." Seeing the complete confusion that now marked Cameron's face Drummond clarified further. "It's usual to wear one."

"Ohhh..." said Cameron as realization began to sink in.

"What were you planning on wearing?" asked Drummond, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at Cameron in his own confusion, surprised that Cameron wasn't aware that a dinner suit was the normal requirement for an invitation such as this.

Cameron glanced down at his current attire. Brown boots, brown trousers, white shirt, tan jacket. It was respectable if slightly dusty but even taking that into account he knew that wouldn't do for Lady Faraday's cocktail party.

"I see," said Drummond, giving a small sigh, "I thought that might be the case. You better come with me. I know a tailor who'll have you fitted out in a jiffy."

***S***S***

Cameron stood somewhat stiffly with his legs slightly apart, arms up and out from his sides, wondering for what seemed like the umpteenth time what on earth he was doing here as the small Arab man quickly and deftly wrapped a tape measure around his chest and barked out a series of instructions in Arabic to his young assistant who stood poised nearby with pen and paper at hand.

Being measured for a suit was not something Cameron had ever done before and he was finding the whole procedure just a little... unsettling. Drummond, of course, seemed to gain some amusement from it. Sitting as he was in a large wicker chair that was tucked in one of the corners of the small shop, wearing a small smirkful smile as he puffed away on yet another cigarette, a cup of mint tea sitting nearby.

As the tape measure was run along from his shoulder to his wrist Cameron tried to focus his mind elsewhere in an attempt to ease the discomfort he was feeling. He focused on his surroundings, noting the vast range of bolts of cloth that were stacked neatly from floor to ceiling along one wall. On another wall were more bolts of cloth as well as several small drawers and a small counter from which the shop was run.

Cameron's eyes opened a little wider in alarm as the little man nudged his legs a little more apart and ran the tape up his inside leg. Confident as he was in his own sexuality, there were to Cameron a few things a man shouldn't do and this was definitely high up on his list of do nots. Still he took a slow steadying breath, pushing himself through the tension he was feeling, knowing that it would be over soon. He only hoped that the party tonight was worth it.

***S***S***

Unlocking his door Drummond immediately knew that he was not alone as he caught the gentle scent of jasmine drifting in the air. Turning, little if any surprise registered across his face at the sight of the woman sitting there, a glass of scotch clasped in one hand. Seeing that the glass was almost empty he wondered how long she had been sitting there, waiting for him.

Saying nothing, he went over to the tray of glasses and poured himself a stiff measure of Scotch, keeping his silence until he was ready. With the bottle still in his hand he went over to her and poured some into her glass until it was half filled.

"You know one of these days this breaking and entering habit of yours is going to get you into trouble," he said, his voice carrying a tinge of exasperation.

With her face betraying nothing Morgan looked up at him. "They'd have to catch me first," she said with complete seriousness.

His eyes briefly locked onto hers before he gave a small shake of his head, a whisper of a smile upon his lips. "You could have waited."

"And where would the fun in that be." This time her mouth curved up in the barest hint of a smile.

His smile widening a little Drummond went back over to the drinks tray and picked up his own glass. "So how did it go this morning?"

"It went fine."

"And Mister Mitchell?" The glimmer of the smile that had been on her Morgan's face vanished and the blank mask of seriousness that she generally worn came back. Seeing this response to his question Drummond filled in the silence with his own response. "That good?"

"He was fine."

"You know he said the same thing about you."

Not wishing to discuss the matter further Morgan downed the remains of her drink in one fluid motion, swallowing quickly. Finished she leaned forward in her chair and placed the glass down on the bureau that was next to her. Her eyes landing on the Goa'uld ribbon device which laid on it's surface. She paused, her hand still clasped around the glass, as she stared intently at it.

"Where... did you get that?"

Pouring himself another drink, Drummond glanced her way, seeing where her gaze had fallen. "Ah. I thought that might catch your eye. What do you think? Quite beautiful isn't it?"

Morgan pulled her gaze away, her hand finally releasing the glass she had still been holding in her hand. "Yes I suppose some might think so."

Preoccupied with the cigarette he was about to light Drummond barely notice the hint of something off in Morgan's voice. "I'm afraid I can't sell it to you. I've already got someone whose interested in acquiring it." He walked over to her, offering her a cigarette.

Taking one, she fought back against the slight tremble that went through her hand and bringing it to her lips she leaned towards the lighter that Drummond held out to her. As Drummond closed his lighter with a curt flick, Morgan settled back into the chair, drawing slowly on the cigarette. She glanced over once more at the ribbon device.

"You do?"

Hearing the calm, almost cold tone in her voice, Drummond turned to her. "Yes. Why? What is it?"

Morgan stared the artifact for a moment longer, her gaze thoughtful before she smiled at Drummond. "Nothing."

A questioning look flickered across Drummond's face.

"It's nothing," said Morgan getting up out of the chair and going over to him, placing her hand on the side of his face, while her thumb gently caressed him. "Just... be careful."

Drummond held her gaze.

He had always thought her a beautiful woman, right from the moment he had first met her in the last year of the war and in the years since then. She was just as mysterious and confusing now as she had been then, though even this was a first for her. She had never touched him like this, even when their relationship had been something more.

Bringing his hand up he placed it over hers. "I'll be fine. You, my dear, worry far too much."

***S***S***


	7. Chapter 7

Cameron tried to tie his bow tie for what seemed like the umpteenth time, his frustration building with each attempt. Whoever invented these things deserved to be shot. Why women thought they were sexy he had no idea. Maybe it was a James Bond thing. Whatever it was he was certainly having no luck tying the damn thing. At a knock on the door he let go of both ends, happy for the chance to stop with his fumbling.

With his tie hanging loose around his neck he went and opened the door. In the hallway was Drummond, dressed and ready in his tux, bow tie perfect, black rimmed glasses perched upon his face.

"You know I'm beginning to think that someone designed this thing as a torture device," said Cameron, gesturing to his unmade tie.

Walking into the room Drummond frowned a little, trying not to smile as he took in Cameron's less than ready appearance. He tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow rising up, his look questioning as he stared at the offending garment. "You really are having trouble aren't you. Do you mind?"

Cameron shook his head. "No. Go right ahead. I'm pretty sure you can do a far better job than I ever could."

Once again Drummond found himself somewhat at a lost as to what Cameron had just said, though he had gotten the gist of most of it. The man certainly used an interesting turn of phrase, ones that he had never heard before which was interesting since he considered himself reasonably well-travelled and had mixed with a variety of people from all nationalities and walks of life. Then again he didn't know too many Americans so perhaps that was the reason.

Picking up both ends of the tie he began, with skillful fingers, the process of making the perfect bow tie. "Did no one every teach you how to do this? A wife? Or a sweetheart?" asked Drummond, curiosity in his voice.

"A wife? No. Sweetheart?" Cameron pursed his lips for just a second as he thought it through, leaning his head a little backwards to give Drummond better access. "Never really had someone you could call a sweetheart. Girlfriends mostly, but if they knew how to do this it never came up."

"What about your mother? Surely she would have shown you how to tie a bow tie."

"My folks died a long time ago." The lie slipped easily from Cameron's tongue something that was becoming more and more common. These past few months he had learned to adapt to his new surroundings and lying was now just one of the many things he did to make sure that he could fit into this time period unnoticed. Saying his folks were dead seemed easier somehow, giving him less chance to slip up than if he had said they were alive, though the first time he had said the words it had felt like a betrayal to them but he knew deep down that they would understand.

"I see. I am sorry. Strangely enough it would seem that we have something in common," he said, giving a rueful smile, "Other than a love for a good Scotch, of course. My parents died when I was quite young. Hans is an orphan too and the lovely Morgan's parents, are I believe, also deceased. So it would seem that we four are all alone in this world."

"Yeah I guess we are. Though calling Morgan lovely might be stretching it a bit."

Drummond tried and failed to keep the amusement off his face. He had already gathered from their earlier comments that neither Cameron or Morgan saw each other in a favourable light. Why was something of a mystery but he knew enough about people to know that sometimes you couldn't force the issue. "Yes. Well... she can be somewhat..."

"Rude," said Cameron, interrupting him.

This time Drummond gave a quiet snort. "I was going to say abrupt. But yes rude would also suffice." Satisfied that the tie was now as perfect as it could be he pulled away, giving the bow tie one last look.

Free from Drummond's administrations Cameron smoothed his hand over the tie, happy that it was finally done and went over to the dresser, picking up the silver cufflinks that sat there. "You've known her a long time?" he asked, fixing the first cufflink in place as he cast a quick glance over at Drummond

Taking a cigarette out from his cigarette case, Drummond tapped it against the case, his mood thoughtful. "Morgan? Yes. I suppose I have. We met during the war. She was an ambulance driver."

This Cameron found surprising. Not the ambulance driver part, because that actually made some sense. Morgan certainly seemed practical and capable enough. No what was surprising was that she had been old enough to drive an ambulance in the first place. He had picked her as being much younger, at least going by the look of her. "She was? I wouldn't have thought she was old enough. She looks like she barely in her twenties now."

Drummond lit his cigarette with a flick of his lighter and inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment before he spoke. "Yes I suppose she does, doesn't she. The eternal youth of a beautiful woman perhaps. We met in... oh let me see 1917 I think. At the Ritz in Paris. She would have about 18 or 19 then. Quite lovely she was too. Still is. Passionate, bright, independent. Strong-willed too of course. She always did know her own mind, even back then."

"Why doesn't that surprise me."

With the last cufflink in place, Cameron swept his room key up into his hand and headed out the door with Drummond following closely behind him.

***S***S***

Lady's Faraday's home was like something out of the Arabian Nights with towering palms and flowering shrubs and climbers decorating the grounds while the house itself was all light terracotta walls and archways with ceramic titles embedded around the edges and a tower in one corner.

Getting out of the car Cameron saw an extremely large fountain that took up a large potion of the front grounds. It glistened white in the moonlight with a marble figure of some Egyptian deity at its centre. The sculpture was of a woman, beautifully carved; long limbed, a draped gown wrapped around her figure, a staff of some kind in one hand and a head band sitting upon her head. Cameron was sure that Daniel would have known who she was.

Entering the house a man approached them, dark-skinned and dressed in a long blue robe with a headscarf wrapped around his head. "Good evening Mr Drummond. Lady Faraday is expecting you and your quest. Please follow me."

Drummond responded, not in English as Cameron had expected, but in Nubian and the two men chattered briefly as they walked down a long hall with Cameron walking along with them. The faint sound of jazz music and chattering voices travelled towards, getting a little louder the further they went along. Finally they came out into a large reception room, beautifully and ornately decorated with the smell of gardenia's, lilies and incense floating through the air. Forty or so guests all dressed in cocktail attire, mingled about, as well as a handful of waiters who were moving around the room with trays of champagne filled glasses.

From the other side of the room Lady Katerina Faraday saw the two men as did her companion, Dorothea Fenton-Hawesley or Dodo as she was known to most. Boyishly slim, as was the fashion, with platinum blonde hair and alabaster skin, Dodo had a reputation for being something of a good time girl. Married and divorced before she was 21 to a man old enough to have been her father, she had come out of the marriage with a pile of money. Since then she had accumulated lovers like most women accumulated nice jewelry or shoes. Women generally tolerated her at best, while men adored her. She was young and pretty and had a breathy way of speaking that drew men of all ages to her. She was also fun and kind and generous and despite some of the rumours that went about, many of which were untrue, she never had a cruel word to say about anyone which in itself was reason enough to like her.

"Who is that divine man?" she said, her gaze fixed on Cameron.

"That is Mr Cameron Mitchell. An American," replied Katerina, sounding somewhat disinterested.

"An American?. Oh he is ab-so-lute-ly delish. You must introduce us."

***S***S***

"It seems we have been spotted," said Drummond, his champagne glass poised just inches from his mouth as he noticed the two women.

It was hard not to. Lady Faraday was a fiery flame with her dark hair cut straight and blunt, her eyes all smokey while her lips were painted blood red to match the dress she worn which shimmered softly in the light as she moved. Her companion in contrast was all white and pale silver, from her hair to her glittering white dress and silver shoes. She reminded Cameron of a Christmas Tree Angel only her dress was a lot more revealing than any angel he had ever seen.

"Charlie darling, you look simply spiffy," said Dodo, smiling at Drummond and taking a sip of her champagne.

"And you, my dearest Dodo, are as beautiful as always. As are you Lady Faraday."

Katerina slightly bowed her head at him in acknowledgement. "Mr Drummond."

"And who is your charming friend?" asked Dodo, her gaze flickering in Cameron's direction.

"This is Mr Cameron Mitchell," replied Drummond, gesturing between Cameron and Dodo, "Cameron, this delightful young lady is Dorothea Fenton-Hawesley."

"Oh pish posh Charlie, only my mother calls me Dorothea and she only does that to annoy me. Please Mr Mitchell, call me Dodo. All my friends do."

Cameron felt a smile tug at his lips. Dodo was certainly an... interesting kind of name then again it seemed to suit her. She was all bubbles and sparkle and giddiness, very much like the champagne that she held in her hand. "My friends call me Cameron."

"Cameron," said Dodo, his name coming out all whispered and breathy, "I do so adore your accent."

"Dodo, Mr Drummond and I have some business to discuss, so perhaps you would show Mr Mitchell around and introduce him to some of the others," said Katerina with a smile as she slipped her arm through Drummond's, the two of them walking away to leave Dodo and Cameron alone.

***S***S***

"Well it seems that I get to have you all to myself. I hope you don't mind?"

Cameron sensed that for all her bubble and sparkle that Dodo wasn't quite as confident as she pretended to be and smiled at her, wanting to put her at ease. "No not at all. It'll be a pleasure."

"Oh wonderful, you are an absolute sweetie," she said, beaming a smile at him, her blue eyes sparkling with delight, "Well first we must get you a drink. Something other than champagne I'm thinking."

"Good guess."

"I think I might know just the thing. Come with me," she said slipping her hand in his as she led him away. The walk gave Cameron a tantalizing view of the back of her dress which had a deep low cut back that showed off the pale skin of her bare back, the design clearly hinting that she was wearing very little, if anything, underneath her dress.

Arriving outside she let go of his hand and dashed off in another direction with a breathy wait here. A minute went by and then another and another and then suddenly she was back, a clear glass bottle in one hand and two shot glasses in the other. Walking pass him with a smile she sat down on a marble bench with Cameron joining her to sit opposite. As she finished pouring Cameron picked up one of the drinks and drank some, quickly pulling himself together as the strength of the drink hit him. "Vodka?" he said with a slight gasp.

"Yes. Isn't it marvellous."

Cameron couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm and tossed back the shot glass.

For the next hour they sat and drank and talked and laughed, interrupted every now and again by the sound of voices and giggling as others came outside only for them to vanish again as they disappeared , either back into the house or into the garden that surrounded them.

After awhile they got up and moved, walking around the grounds as they carried on talking. Eventually they found themselves by the fountain that was out front.

As Dodo sat on the edge of it, Cameron stared out at the marble centrepiece. "Is it just me or does that statue look a little like Lady Faraday."

"Katty?" said Dodo, twisting around to have a look, "I suppose it does. How strange. I've never noticed before. Perhaps Lord Faraday had it built in her likeness. He adored her by all accounts. It was quite frightful how he died. An asp bite apparently. Horrible things."

"An asp? That's a snake?" said Cameron knowing full well that it was but wanting to be sure anyway.

"Why yes. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just curious I guess." He stared out at the statue again, this time looking directly at the headband and the snake figure that was in its centre.

***S***S***


End file.
